


Fordyce Never Prepared me for THIS

by Anonymous



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: By deciding not to touch this with a ten-foot pole, Charlotte is living her best life, F/M, Fancifully Imagined 1810s Strap-Ons, Light BDSM, Pegging, Power Dynamics, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After an unproductive conversation with the impertinent social climber trying to trap her nephew Lady Catherine needs to work out some frustration. As always Mr. Collins is happy to bend over backwards (or forwards, or in this case just bend over) to assist his Ladyship.
Relationships: Catherine de Bourgh/William Collins
Comments: 19
Kudos: 91
Collections: Anonymous





	Fordyce Never Prepared me for THIS

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tumblr users pati79 and lgthpt for reading and cheerleading.
> 
> I don't even apologize for making this, eyebleach or brainbleach as needed but I'll never be ashamed.

"Do you know, I've never had much patience for the sort of people who speak endlessly on the subject of their own pleasures while never giving thought to the needs of those around them."

In the dim light of her disused office Lady Catherine De Bourgh unpinned her hat and tossed it carelessly away, feathers stirring as the elaborate construction settled in the seat of an armchair. The visit to her foolish nephew's insinuating paramour had been a disaster.

"It is well known that your Ladyship always puts the needs of others above her own."

Mr. Collins wore no hat, of course. When his Ladyship spoke Mr. Collins could never do something so brash as to wear his hat, he could only clutch it fervently to his breast.

Lady Catherine nodded curtly and shrugged out of her cloak, revealing an elaborate wine-colored gown with the voluminous pleats and folds of an era that suited her better than the one in which she was unfortunately living.

"Quite. I can't stand to think that anyone near me should want, especially anyone in an inferior position. It is my duty as a person of a certain status to see to the needs of those who were not graced with the gifts appointed to my name."

Mr. Collins' frock coat was not so much shabby as that something about _him_ suggested shabbiness. He would never allow himself to be seen with worn elbows and in so doing disgrace his benefactress but when he laid the coat over the back of a spindly chair it gained a luster that it never had when he carried it on his person.

"We who so admire you are ever impressed by your condescension and generosity; that the desires of one so low as me might make an impression on one so great as my Ladyship is always a source of awe that humbles me to the very ground."

His words nicely matched his actions; freed of his crumpled hat and perfectly well maintained coat Mr. Collins fell to his knees on the opulent carpet that stood between the mantelpiece and Lady Catherine's immense desk.

"Of course," she replied, crossing to the desk and pulling open a drawer. She removed a golden guinea that she tossed onto the floor before him and then returned her attention to the drawer as Mr. Collins lowered his forehead until the broad ridge of his brow was pressing the coin into the plush carpet.

The action pulled his pantaloons enticingly taut against his generous backside and Lady Catherine allowed herself the luxury of a raised eyebrow and a lingering look and then continued her task.

The apparatus that she placed on the shining surface of the desk didn't have any immediately obvious purpose. It looked, at first glance, like a small, intricate saddle - something fitting Lady Catherine's status, certainly - made of polished wood and oiled leather with gleaming silver fastenings.

"Are you wearing suspenders under that waistcoat," she called, turning away from the Rector to pluck at the fastenings of her gown.

Mr. Collins cleared his throat and projected louder than his usual simper to ensure that his voice would remain unmuffled by the tasteful but abrasive rug slowly rubbing the end of his nose raw.

"You do flatter me, my Lady," he said, "but that sort of frippery suits neither my frame nor dispensation."

Lady Catherine snorted and shrugged away the rustling dress, draping it over her chair before untying the first petticoat at her waist.

"Are you implying that you require further compensation, Mr. Collins?"

He gasped, and she saw the struggle that overcame him - his empty hands twitched as though to twist a hat between them and though he was already on the ground he seemed to wish to cringe lower.

"My deepest apologies, your Ladyship, it pains me that you might, through what can only be base thoughtlessness on my part, for any moment believe that I could ever ask for any more than you might wish to give me."

"Mister Collins you will pardon me for saying so but it has largely been my experience of late that you are most willing to beg for more than you are given."

A flush rose over the back of his neck, contrasting with his pale collar and dark hair.

Lady Catherine removed her second petticoat and issued an order.

"Since you are as singularly unafflicted by fashion as you are by manners you may lower your pantaloons, though your waistcoat and shirt are to stay firmly in place."

He put his hands on the ground and tensed his shoulders.

"Presumptuous, aren't you," she hummed. "I did not say that you could lift your head in order to lower your pants, Sir."

He squirmed as the third petticoat was set aside. Lady Catherine busied herself with pulling a spare corset lace around her waist and tying it neatly around the narrow point of her bodice before passing the trailing ends between her legs to ruck up her chemise, which she fussed over briefly before wrapping the lace around her waist once more until it seemed like she was wearing a gauzy set of crude breeches.

"My Lady," Mr. Collins moaned.

She picked up the apparatus on her desk and walked around the carpet to observe him, making sure that her shoes clacked loudly against the parquet floor.

He was, at this moment if at no other time, charming.

If he was pompous and did not know how to dress his hair at least he was also broad-shouldered and nicely plump, both pale and rosy, and with his pantaloons tight around his thighs he was vulnerable without being vulgar.

He would have to lift himself up in order to be vulgar and whenever his patroness was nearby he would never dream of lifting himself and could only wait for her to condescend.

"You may raise your head."

He lifted his face to look upon her and he'd so intently pressed his forehead to the floor that when he rose the guinea he'd bowed over clung briefly to his skin, leaving a round red mark as it fell quietly onto the carpet.

Lady Catherine's mouth watered, sure that if she deigned to allow him to sit up on his haunches she'd be able to read the year on his forehead.

"Place your hands beneath your shoulders," she said, untangling the apparatus and settling a wide leather belt low on her hips.

"My Lady," he whispered again. She adjusted the worked leather saddle over her pelvis, drawing another belt between her legs and behind her so that she could adjust it until the gleaming wood that could nearly be mistaken for a pommel, if this were a saddle meant for riding horses, was angled to her liking.

She kicked at the insides of his ankles with her silken shoes until he spread his legs as far as the unforgiving fabric around his thighs would allow and then she dropped a cushion between those shapely calves.

An unstoppered bottle of fine Italian oil was warming in her hand.

"Keep your head low," she murmured. "You, better than anyone else in my life, know your place."

***

Charlotte Collins sat in the parlor and dipped her pen.

Lady Catherine had been in a high temper and low spirits upon her return from Hertfordshire.

She smiled to herself as she began to write, glancing up occasionally when the sound of furniture scraping over the floor or a startled moan became loud enough to attract her notice. Her husband's attendance on his ladyship had required her to drop everything and accompany him to the manor so that she could curtsy and nod as he was ushered into a very serious discussion of the religious implications of leaving ungrateful, spoiled nuisances out of a will. William was, of course, an expert on such matters, which Charlotte could deduce from the slapping and crying sounds only partially muffled by an ornate wooden door.

She had asked a maid to bring her paper and ink, and had been well supplied. This would, undoubtedly, be a long conference.

Lizzy's marriage was certainly going to be happier than Charlotte's own, but it warmed her heart to write out congratulations to her dear friend. Charlotte had her geese and her pantry and, at the moment, very little to trouble her.


End file.
